


Now, Draw a Monster...

by Alexander_Wesker



Series: An improbable couple and the dark ghost lurking behind them [9]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, Five Nights at Freddy's (Books)
Genre: Aftermath of a Murder, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Michael has William's eyes, Michael is in the bookverse, Mild Blood, William had one mentally stable son and he fucked that up, William is obsessed with Michael, William isn't a good father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22160647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_Wesker/pseuds/Alexander_Wesker
Summary: All Aftons go mad after a while, all... all... first his father -dead silver eyes, smile too wide, blood on his hands-, then his sister -wide plastic, green eyes, metal body with her own corpse still stuck inside, killer instincts enhanced- and now... now was his turn.
Relationships: Michael Afton & William Afton | Dave Miller
Series: An improbable couple and the dark ghost lurking behind them [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1419319
Comments: 18
Kudos: 122





	Now, Draw a Monster...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait but I have been very busy in IRL. Sorry again, I hope you'll like this new entry.

Michael absently asked himself if this is how is father had always felt.

  
This empty coldness, this unfeeling void as he moved mechanically to clean the blood off his mascot-like costume. Of course he could have just asked, his father was there with him, looming like a monster ready to pounce, shining purple eyes and metal hands almost contracted in a claw-like fashion. An unnatural, large smile, plastic and metal plates that had shrieked one against the other, blunt plastic teeth all on display, and even if they were not sharp... Michael knew that, if his father so wanted, he could crush his skull between his metal jaws.

  
' _Maybe I deserve that_ ', Michael mused, after what he did just a few hours ago, - slicing that kid's throat, chuckling as a cold-hearted psychopath as they gurgled suffocating on their own blood-, and after what he did, so long ago to his own little brother. His hands had always been stained with blood. _He had always been a monster_.

' _Guess Clay was right_ ', a bitter smile bent the young Afton's lips at the thought.

A metal hand wrapped around his wrist and that was what took him out of his own head, Michael raised his eyes to meet his father's. William's smile had disappeared. And Michael couldn't understand why. _Why, why, why was he so serious? Why wasn't he happy?_ _He had done what he had always said he would have done,_ _then why_?  
"Michael" his father started, his voice low and slow, that had him concentrate again, "let go of the knife"

"What? I don't..." Michael's voice trailed off, as his gaze went back to his hands. The mask was set down on one side of the sink, and in his hands, _his red, bloodied hands_ , was a knife... _the knife_ -the same he used to take that kid's life- the silvery blade was covered in vivid red, and just now Michael realized the pain that came from his right hand, a deep cut on his palm. He let the knife fall from his grip, it clattered against the sink, already stained with deep crimson." I... I didn't mean to.. I..." 

  
William hushed him softly, his metal hands wrapped around his wrists as he guided him away from the sink, towards one of the lonely chairs that were in the basement -were they currently were. "It's alright, Michael. I'm here" he said, all to softly as his mechanical steps echoed in the mostly empty room.

  
' _That's the problem_ ' Michael thought but didn't say, the cut on his hand sent spikes of pain through his nerves, as the cold, stale air hit his flesh. And the Afton fought the sudden desire to close his hand and dig his fingers in the wound, to make everything worse because he deserved it... he did. _He did_.

  
The Springbonnie's voice in his head was cooing, muttering soft reassurances to lessen the sudden guilt he was feeling. _It wasn't succeding_.

His father's animatronic hands were too cold, and too unnaturally weary as he checked the wound on his palm. Michael could just watch, feeling detached from his own body, as if he was a spirit, a ghost, possessing its own corpse, only that in his case his heart was still beating and blood was still flowing in his veins, and was oozing out of the cut, deep, rich crimson filling the air with a coppery smell. 

"It's okay, Michael" his father said "It's not as deep as it seems"

Michael nodded absently as to tell William that he had indeed heard him, and he had but his words, those went over his head, he didn't know what his father had said, only recognized by the tone that everything was alright, luckly. His father's eyes met his and Michael was sure that if William was still alive, still human - and not a spirit controlling a robotic shell - he would have been smirking. Cold silver eyes staring him down, voice soft as if he _actually_ cared.

  
As if he hadn't, more than once, threatened to gut him, slice his throat, shove him in a springsuit, break every bone in his body... and then told him that he would never harm him because he was _his favourite_.

"Dad?"   
"Yes, Michael?" 

The younger Afton only then realized that his father had bandaged his cut... when? How could he hadn't noticed it? Hadn't _saw_ it? The haunted animatronic was looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

"How much does it hurt?" Michael asked, his father cocked his head on the side slightly looking at him as if he didn't understand the question, or the subject of the question. "A... springlock failure... how much does it hurt?"

  
"Why do you want to know it, Michael?" 

  
' _So I know what to expect_ ' that was Michael answer to that question, not that he would have said it. But he knew... he knew that sooner or later his father would have mantained his promise... or carried out his threat, depending on how he looked at it. His father had always been unstable, at best, unpredictable at worst and since he had died, he had become even more less predictable than before, and Michael knew that his father was so obsessed with the idea of having him being so completely like him that... soon he wouldn't refrain from shoving him inside his suit and make so every single security lock snapped. Making his not-exactly-a-springlock-suit a springlock suit, _a very faulty, very sensitive to even the slightest change springlock suit_ at that. 

  
Michael didn't answer the question, not knowing what to say, how play it off so to not tell the real reason but his father seemed to decide to give him a little mercy and answering him anyway.

  
Telling him every little thing that he felt when that happened, such a detailed report that Michael had no difficulty in picturing himself in his place. The springlocks snapping, the metal springs slashing his skin, just a little taste of what was about to happen next, the suit - him - contorting while the parts - metal, plastic, cables and wires - forced their way back in place, blood filling his lungs and throat as the endoskeleton tried to lock up in place, and he couldn't scream, he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything just suffer as his body got mangled up by his own creation.

  
Why was the image so clear in his mind? Why could he _feel_ that pain, numbed, a washed-up version of what it should have been?

The Springbonnie voice in his head said dismissively something that seemed like ' _you wanted to know_ ' .

"And... and you wanted to do that... to me...?" it wasn't that Michael inteded to say it, to vocalize his doubts but the question came out of his mouth before he could stop it.

  
His father's purple glowing eyes locked in his. "If you tried to leave me... yes. If you would be so... foolish to try in future, I will. You're _mine_ , Michael. Mine, my son, my doppelganger, my.. _legacy_. I can't let you leave" he said, dread filled Michael's chest at hearing that words, dread that quickly became shock, then pure terror when his father continued "And if I were to kill you, that would be my masterpiece. I would make it a work of art, just for you. And even as a victim, I know that you would be perfect, not like those _little brats_. A soul so similar to mine, you would be the _perfect creation_ , Michael."

  
Michael was still, unmoving as if he had become a statue. His breath caught in his throat, eyes wide with fear, heart pounding, his instincts shouting him to bolt and run, run far away from his father, to run and never look back. Yet he couldn't move.

"You... would do to me... what you did to Elizabeth... You would..." Michael voice was nothing more than a low stuttered whisper, but William heard him anyway.

"What happened to Elizabeth was... _accidental_. I didn't mean for her to become one of my creations. And her soul was weak, Baby's AI almost overpowered her" he said, as if he was correcting him, a disappointed sigh after the last word left his... voice box. 

  
Michael felt a flare of anger ignite in his chest at hearing his father dischard his sister in this way, but fear was stronger and... _what could he have done against a monster made of metal?_

"You, if I ever do it, would be anything but accidental. And I know that you would overcome the AI as I did with Springbonnie's. You have always been better than _them_." William continued "A perfect little monster hidden behind a pretty face and a kind facade"

"I'm not... I'm not a monster" Michael objected feebly, more out of an automatic response to such words than an actual objection, there was no force behind his words as he himself didn't believe them anymore.

"Of course you are not" his father accepted mockingly, any trace of affection, as creepy and distorted as it was, gone from his voice."You are even worse than that. You are even worse than me, at least I never hurt one of you. _You_ killed your little brother"

"I... It was an accident, you know that... I never meant for him to get hurt". Michael lowered his eyes to the floor, unable to sustain his father's intense gaze.

William chuckled humourlessly " _You didn't meant for him to get hurt_ , uh? You _really_ think I'd believe that? You knew that Fredbear would have crushed his head."

"I... didn't! How could I? I was sixteen for heaven's sake! How was I supposed to know that that damned robot would have killed him?!" For just a moment, Michael forgot his fear, his insecurity, meeting his father's unnatural purple eyes, anger rushing through his body at hearing those false accusations.

His father grinned cruelly and his next words were cold, and slightly amused : " _Because I told you_. That morning, at the diner, before you brother's birthday party started, you joined me in the backstage, and asked me what would have happened if something ended up in the bear's mouth. And I answered you that it, whatever it was, would have ended up crushed by the animatronic jaws. _Don't you remember, Michael_?"

"No... that's not... _You are lying_ " Michael shot back, trying to cling to his anger, to ignore those words and the oppressive feeling that was beginning to coil around his heart at the thought of... ' _what if he is telling the truth?_ '

"But I'm not. And you know that, Michael. Deep down you know I'm not lying to you. You knew what was going to happen. You wanted to ruin Vince's happiest day, you wanted him dead."

"I didn't!" Michael replied, almost in a shout, angry, silver eyes pointed in his father's. "I didn't! He was my brother! I never wanted that!"

"When he was five, you tinkered with his robot buddy so it would jump at him instead of play hide-and-seek with him"

"It was just a prank, it wasn't dangerous" 

"Your little plushtrap broke his arm" his father quickly reminded him before continuing "And when he was seven you pushed him down the basement stairs and locked him inside, if it wasn't for your mother, he would stayed down here until he died of either thirst or starvation. And you knew this... you knew no-one would have noticed his disappearence." William smiled, staring his son dead in the eyes, watching as all that rage crumbled down, as realization settled, and horror bloomed in his eyes, in his expression. " _Accept it, Michael_ " 

"I.. No, I didn't want him dead... I didn't... I..." Michael stuttered, a single thread of belief attached to that words. Even if it was queavering. "... _He was my brother_..."

"And that was the problem wasn't it?"

"What? No...why would it... no... he... I..."Michaels voice faded down, in a broken incomprensible whisper. The Springbonnie voice in his head sing-sang the words ' _you hated him, you wanted to get rid of him, you wanted him dead_ ', again and again and again, laughing. His father was watching him, a wide smile on his borrowed, robotic face."I... I..." Michael tried again, holding to that belief - that he was innocent that he wasn't a monster from the start- but... that wasn't true, _was it_?... the voice in his head was right... _his father was right_. "I... God, _I hated him_ " he said, and finally saying those words out loud... felt good, and _awfully wrong_ at the same time (like something wasn't exactly right, as if those feelings weren't really his). " _I hated him so much_ "

"Why?" William asked, as if he was really intrested in what Michael could say and not just intrested in satiate his morbid curiosity.

"Why?" Michael repeated, a smile a little too wide on his lips that appeared out of place on him, too much like his father "Because he was so fucking obnoxious, so annoying. Always following behind me, always saying _:'Michael why do you pass all your time with dad, don't you wanna play with me and Ely?', 'Michael do you think dad will like this drawing?'_. Always asking stupid questions, always trying to get your attention. He had already mom's attention why the hell did he wanted yours too? That _greedy little brat_."Michael chuckled, the sound tinted with a hint of hysteria. The Springbonnie voice in his head cheered. 

The younger Afton chuckled again, and his father smiled, broken silver eyes reflecting on glowing purple.

' _Everyone knows how the Aftons are, right, Charlotte? We all go mad after a while_ ' that phrase, he said to Charlie all those months ago, repeated itself in Michael's thoughts as a broken record, stuck in a loop. All Aftons go mad after a while, all... all... first his father - _dead silver eyes, smile too wide, blood on his hands_ -, then his sister - _wide plastic, green eyes, metal body with her own corpse still stuck inside, killer instincts enhanced_ \- and now... now was his turn.  
Michael felt like he was falling, like he was falling down in a bottomless abyss. He lent a hand hoping to be saved...

_Nobody was there to take it and stop his fall._

* * *

_"Vince, if the teacher told you to draw a monster, why you draw big brother?" asked Elizabeth, a doll in her little hands, as she looked over her little brother shoulder, observing the pastel drawing of a stylized figure with their brother's name written under ._

_"'Cause Ely, he is" the boy answered after some time, his big, blue eyes locked on the deactivated plushie animatronic, sitting on a chair, bright yellow fur, purple bow, big, empty silver eyes and a wide smile on its face._

_Elizabeth giggled, crystaline and pure. "Oh, I see! He's one of the good monsters!" she exclaimed, wide, cute smile and shining, emerald green eyes._

_Vince's eyes fell on his drawing, the figure was tall and slim, a circle for head and deep evil looking grey triangles for eyes, he didn't know why she saw their big brother as_ a good monster _, did those even exist? He, involontarely, put a hand on his left arm, the one he broke trying to fight of the plushie animatronic while his brother laughed, instead of helping him. "No" he said "_ He _is one of those monsters that have to_ be slain _"_


End file.
